Our Life, Crisp Days Included
by sctwilightvampwolfgal
Summary: Some days, their life was not full of cheer. *Nyo!America.*


Some days were crisp rather than warm, and all that could be said about them were not necessarily positive things.

She'd come home, he'd be there; no real words that conveyed their thoughts were spoken out loud, just she'd move on, exclaiming about a long day, and she would not eat the dinner that he'd spent about an hour on after getting home from work.

He'd lit candles and listen to the hum of the flames as he'd remind himself that not all scars were scars; this may just be a blip in the smooth surface.

Those days felt as if a piece of once well loved, well taken care of land, had an abrupt change of pace, a makeover that would destroy everything.

He'd wonder when such work never really paid off and when meals so delicately and lovingly made were such garbage; they never tasted like they were supposed to.

The dinner would be tucked away in whatever space was open in the fridge alongside leftovers that often seemed untouched by her despite her love of savoring those tasty treats most of the time.

He'd get up, turn on some French music that was soft and so nearly tragic that he'd nearly cry but will himself not to.

She'd only leave the room, long after he'd fallen asleep on the couch, turn off the French music with a grimace and slowly pull out leftovers from another day as if he weren't to see that she even ate the food that he'd prepared on another day for the two of them.

The food would be heated up and only half eaten before she made the delicate trudge back to their room with a full container of ice cream that would be gone long before sunrise hit.

She'd wait until he'd head off to work, possibly with some complex stream of recipes floating in his head as she often thought, and then she'd slink out of the room, finish getting ready and leave for an office job that she loathed.

Hours would turn into seconds with ease, and the process would repeat until he asked her what was wrong.

She would ignore the problem and therefore him as a side effect of his worry, before she'd cave after a few hours and explain why she was mad.

Those days felt much like hope was creeping in, and Spring was off to a wobbly start.

He'd hold her and slowly, she'd calm, knowing yet again that he was by her side always.

Those first few days brought back joy that left her excited for her days; work could only last so long before she'd be home.

Francis would make some elegant dinner, and they'd have wine together with much cheerier and very romantic French music and then they'd take things from there.

Nothing felt bitter on those days; there was no chill anymore.

Amelia would smile, would laugh, would flirt as if she couldn't help herself, and her husband would do the same and tempt her so easily.

He was hers, and she was his in that same regard.

Amelia loved him and that was enough.

They both knew as well of those bitter days when he was bitter, lost faith in himself and his dream, and those days weren't without their worry.

She'd come home to his agony; there never was a dinner those days prepared by Francis, and he'd be crying or asleep or have drunk much more than usual.

He'd be angry; they'd fight.

Sometimes, she did not know what to say, and they both fell asleep angry.

Other days, she'd calm him down little by little before making a dinner for them both and while she was not a professional chef, she could make up some recipes in a half an hour that were simply amazing.

They'd eat; there would either be no alcohol present or there'd be beer depending on how things were when she got home.

She'd remind him of why she loved him and of how she loved him with Francis in her arms at night; nothing really happened aside from Amelia holding and telling him how much she cared before they both fell asleep.

Those mornings though were filled with sweet kisses and making breakfast together with work coming up though things were different on their days off when Amelia could easily convince her husband to lay in bed and cuddle for a bit longer than normal.

They'd fall back asleep before Francis knew and then when they woke up later, he'd convince her to climb out of bed and make breakfast together which ended in playing rather than being actually productive.

She smiled as she listened to the gentle pitter patter of the rain outside and let that calming drizzle soothe her as she waited for Francis to join her side, mug of much pleaded for hot cocoa in his hands.


End file.
